My mind wanders back to Deacon and last night. I think about the way he smelled my hair and moved it off my shoulders to expose my neck. Thinking about how he leaned in to kiss me, has me giddy.

Ignoring the reality of Sam’s intrusion, I picture what could’ve been. Deacon’s and my lips touching, our tongues tangled passionately. Him lifting me off the ground, my legs wrapping around his waist while he carried me to his room and lay me on his bed.

Kissing, touching, learning about each other’s bodies and the things we like. Until finally, he takes my virginity, coming inside of me, then falling into his arms. Breathless and weak, but content.

There’s a loud thunk as the coffee carafe slams onto the tabletop. It startles me out of my daydream.

“Cream?” my mom says.

I look at her wide-eyed and a little afraid, as if she were reading my thoughts about Deacon creaming inside of me.

“What?” I ask.

“Are you still using the cream?” she asks.

flushed, I say, “Oh. No. Sorry,” and slide

cream in her coffee and sits back.

take a breath to calm myself down. “Fine. Cute kid.

clipped. I hope she doesn’t notice or ask any more

sips her coffee, reading the wet newspaper. “Good. Did

He offered

her paper. “Maybe

sigh of relief.

This time I bring a bag full of children’s books

lighting

face mirroring his. How is it possible

stuff for Bailey,”

so sweet

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